


Harry Potter and the Little Yellow Book

by BrightSkywalker



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Matilda - Roald Dahl
Genre: F/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-07 17:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19214098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightSkywalker/pseuds/BrightSkywalker
Summary: Though "friendship, bravery and..." are important in shaping a great wizard, the value of books and cleverness should not be discounted. Near his 10th birthday, Harry Potter discovers a little book in the local library, that will have an effect on him like few things before. Sensing kinship with the title character and her struggles in life, Harry will find himself forever changed.





	1. The Little Yellow Book

A/N This will hopefully be the first and last author note I place before a new chapter. If I ever use author notes, they'll be at the end, where you as the reader can safely ignore them if you're only interested in the story itself. Anyway… I want to welcome all new readers and ask that you have patience with my bumbling attempts to write something good. I have been reading books since I was 4, which is almost 30 years ago, and have been reading fan fiction and specifically HP fanfics since 2005. In that time, I have read thousands of stories. If there seem to you to be any clichés or ideas you've seen elsewhere, in this story, then I will not apologize. I will simply say that everything I've read has inspired me. And any imitation used here should be regarded as the sincerest form of flattery to those originators of the ideas you may see. I'm writing this story, and any other future ones I may write, attempting to write as the flow comes. I do not intend to "steal" ideas or story beats. It's not like any of us writers are getting paid for this anyway. I welcome any reminders of where those ideas may have originated if you know. If I'm using it without realizing, it's likely I don't remember the original story well enough, and I would love to go back and reread. Also, asking not to be flamed by guest accounts is futile, but I will make a solemn promise to address any substantive critique you may have as readers, as long as you provide me a way to respond to you. I want to be a better writer, and your input as readers is valuable to me. Anyway… That's enough with the prattle and on with the story!

Ch 1. - The little yellow book

In the early morning, in the tiny cupboard under the stairs in the home of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, there sat an almost 10-year old boy, though you'd scarcely know that he was that age, due to his short stature, and very thin frame. By appearance alone, you might have guessed that he was 7 or 8 years old, and you'd think that until you looked into his eyes, bright green and possessing the look of a boy used to a hard life and disappointment.

The boy's name was Harry Potter, or "Freak" to his family, which included the aforementioned Vernon (uncle) and Petunia (Aunt), and his cousin Dudley.

This particular morning happened to be the morning of July 24 1990, a week before his tenth birthday, as well as his last day of school. And after many, many years of not knowing what his birth date was, let alone the occasion being celebrated in the Dursley house, Harry had decided something. He decided he would celebrate his own birthday, even if no one else did. 10 years of living with the Dursley family without being crushed to death by sheer size of the whales/males in the house, or by the swinging pans of Petunia, surely counted as an achievement worth celebrating, even if not much else in his life was.

Harry decided that after school (where he had no friends due to Dudley's interventions) he would stop by the local library and see if there were any books that he could borrow that would help distract him from his thoughts about his upcoming birthday. He never had much of a chance to go to the library, as Petunia usually demanded he'd be home before Dudley to prepare dinner and do various chores. But since his birthday was next week, he decided to risk it. He wanted some measure of freedom in his life, and if that was by letting his mind escape Privet Drive through a story, then so be it. He was hoping his "family" had forgotten about the events of a month prior, during Dudley's 10th birthday. Harry had accidentally stepped on the paw of Ripper, the frightful dog of Marge (Vernon's sister), after which the dog had chased him into a tree and wouldn't let him come down till past midnight. He was hoping that if he got his chores done quickly enough, he might be able to borrow enough books to last until next week, when he could celebrate by reading in peace and quiet.

As soon as school let out, he quickly dashed out, so as to avoid attracting attention from Dudley and his gang of friends. Unfortunately, he failed. Piers, Dudley's rat-faced friend, noticed Harry's hurried pace and quickly yelled in a reedy voice "Hey Potter! Didn't you want to stay and play with us?! What's your hurry?!"

Knowing very well that by "play" Piers meant "Harry Hunting", Harry broke into a sprint, trying to get far enough ahead that the gang would give up the chase.

Picking a side street off of the school that led in the direction of the library, Harry managed to dodge between the alleys as he was chased by the gang and lose them quickly, or so he thought. Arriving at the library out of breath, he paused to catch it when he heard the distinct sounds of many feet stopping from their run. Looking behind him, he saw Dudley's porky face glaring at him with beady malevolent eyes. "We've got you, Freak!" he squealed hoarsely, and started after him once more. Desperately, Harry ran into the library, through the front doors and right into the area of the library where several families with small children were sitting around in a circle reading a book about green eggs and ham, of all things, from what Harry could tell.

Dudley's gang, seeing Harry close to the groups of loving families reading stories to their toddlers, realized that creating a ruckus at this moment would be more trouble than it's worth, and so decided to leave while giving Harry vicious, leering looks before they left.

Realizing that his erstwhile tormentors were gone, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He was safe, for the moment.

Finally getting a chance to look around the library for the first time, Harry marveled at what he saw. Though unremarkable from the outside, the interior of the library was quite lovely. With the aforementioned children's corner being brightly painted and decorated, and the rest of the library's walls being painted in a light shade of blue, the library seemed light and inviting. Though the rows of books did provide cozy corners for those preferring shady reading areas, there were plenty convenient seats by the windows, that looked very comfortable and well lit.

Putting his school backpack in a chair by the corner, which was currently being lit with the light of the setting sun, Harry walked to peruse the shelves of the children's section. Bypassing the books obviously meant for babies and toddlers, Harry scanned the shelves for something that would grab his attention. A book with a dusty yellow cover with big red letters caught his eye. On the cover was an illustration of a little girl on a pile of books. Deciding that it looked interesting enough, Harry grabbed the book and went to the sunlit corner. Sitting down and getting comfortable, Harry opened to the first page and began to read.

"It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful"

Based on his experience with Vernon, Petunia and Dudley, Harry had to agree… And on he read…

Little did he know that this day would change the course of his life in monumental ways, and all it took, was a little bit of "books and cleverness".

Author note: To those who may not recognize the book Harry picked up, it is Matilda by Roald Dahl. And when you think about it, Matilda and Harry have quite a lot in common. This story is the result of a story idea that asks, "what if Harry had a role model in his early life that would serve to help him flourish rather shrink"? As a kid living in tough situations, books were my escape, as well as my role models. The characters helped me develop my moral compass, my sense of fairness, and my desire to help others. I imagine Harry might react the same way to Matilda's story, and the universe of possibilities she brings with her.


	2. When Harry met Matilda

For the next week, Harry read. And read, and then read some more. At any moment that wasn't filled with chores, Harry would go into his cupboard, and continue reading the story of Matilda, the precocious young girl with a great gift, and an awful family.

Harry found it very annoying that he shared a name with Matilda's awful father… However, he kept reading.

He marveled at Matilda's abilities, and was impressed by her tenacity, courage and ability to love her friends, and defend them when necessary. When he opened the pages of the little yellow book, he felt himself absorbed in Matilda's world. Her trials and tribulations, setbacks and triumphs, he was right there beside her, experiencing another person's life as if it was his own. And when he was done with Matilda's story, he realized two things. One, he desperately wanted to know what happened to Matilda beyond the end of the book. And two, he had been blind his whole life. As far back as he could remember, he would dream and pray for someone to come and take him away from the Dursleys. For some long-lost family member to come and give him a home. For some miracle to happen that would allow him to break free of the prison that was his life.

And the entire time, the answer was there at the library. Books offered an escape from the dreary prison of his daily life. They gave him an impression of what is right, and what is wrong. They contained knowledge, both real and imaginary. Books could open his world up, in the same way they did for Matilda. And maybe like Matilda, he'll find his way to a family that would care enough to celebrate his birthday.

Resolving to return to the library on his birthday tomorrow, to both see if Matilda's story continued in another book, and also to ask for help in finding some of the books Matilda mentioned reading, Harry started to make a plan.

He would wake up extra early, and make sure that breakfast for the Dursleys was ready before they even came down the stairs. With all luck, he'd be able to have a bit more of a breakfast for himself if he cooked quickly enough. He would then check around the house to make sure that any chores Petunia could possibly ask him to do were done by the time they finished their breakfast. If he succeeded, Petunia might very well allow him to leave quickly while Dudley was still busy stuffing his gob.

Though Harry did not have an alarm clock of any kind (the heavy footfalls of the resident walruses coming down the stairs usually serving that purpose), he hoped that going to sleep early would help him achieve his goals the next day.

It worked.

Harry woke up when a sudden pop sounded in his ear the next morning. Excited about his plan, Harry didn't realize that the noise apparently came from nowhere. Getting his clothes on, and carefully going to the kitchen, Harry started his morning work, preparing the truly prodigious amounts of food Vernon and Dudley could eat in one sitting. Eating some hastily prepared eggs and bacon himself, he had to chew and swallow rather quickly as he suddenly heard light footsteps coming down the stairs. 'It's Petunia!' he thought. 'She can't catch me eating too much, or there'll be hell to pay'. Quickly grabbing a glass of milk, he used the drinking motion to cover his chewing of the last bit of food in his mouth as Petunia entered the kitchen.

Her beady eyes looked around the kitchen, seeking to find some fault with his work, but failing to do so. Harry cleaned the kitchen as he was cooking, so as to lessen his load after the meal was done. "It's about time you started to get up without me serving as your alarm clock" she said as a greeting. "Don't burn anything, or you'll not be given anything to eat till dinner" she continued unnecessarily. Harry and Petunia both knew that Harry had not burned anything since he was 5 years old.

After setting all the food on the table, Harry rushed to get everything he could cleaned up and was in the process of taking out the bag out of the rubbish bin when Vernon and Dudley came into the kitchen. Harry was daydreaming about reading in the local playground, in the bright afternoon, and was happy that everything seemed to be going according to plan.

And it was all going so well…

As Harry was pulling the bag out of the can, Dudley gave him a hard poke in his side, causing Harry to lose his grip on the bag, with the disgusting contents spilling out on the pristine kitchen floor.

A shriek sounded from Petunia, causing a sharp pain to bloom in Harry's head. "Idiot! Why are you so useless?! Why weren't you careful?!" she shouted at Harry. She then turned to her son, cooing "did the Freak get any of the filth on you Duddy?"

Vernon rushed over to Harry and pulled him up by the scruff of Harry's over-large shirt. "All you do is cause us trouble! Everything you do and everything you are is rubbish!" throwing Harry on top of the mess of the floor, Vernon continued venomously "clean this up! Right now!"

Frightened and bruised from his collision with the floor, Harry got up on his knees and hurriedly cleaned up the mess. As soon as he was done, Vernon grabbed him painfully by the back of his neck and dragged him to the cupboard.

"We are leaving right now to celebrate the beginning of the summer holiday, and you will stay in here until we are back this evening, so I do not have to come back to see the house become as rubbished as the rubbish that you are" Vernon bellowed, before shoving Harry inside and locking the outside deadbolt lock.

Harry fumed, both at the situation, and at himself. Sitting there, covered in filth, the unfairness of it all was galling. He had done everything right. He had done his best to get on the Dursleys' best side today, and one moment of inattention allowed Dudley to ruin it all. Harry had had enough experience with Dudley to know that he should always be careful when Dudley is around not to get caught unawares. From previous occurrences, Harry knew that when Vernon said all day, he meant all day. Harry would not be allowed to even use the loo. Frustrated and upset, Harry sat down heavily on his little rickety bed in the cupboard, trying to stem the painful stinging in his eyes that signaled oncoming tears. But the more he tried to suppress them, the more his ire rose. Why did he have to be the one to control himself? Why did he have to be the one to never complain and never speak his mind about the injustice he suffered? Turning his head, he stared at the door. Dudley had tantrums all day long, and was indulged as a result. Harry knew that this would never work for him. But he was so tired of having to swallow it all. Stuck in a locked cupboard, with no food, no water and no way to get outside. It felt like his life as a whole in a microcosm. He was stuck with the Dursleys, with no friends, no real family, very little food, no emotional support and no way to escape it all. And now that he had discovered the doorway to new experiences that were available through books, even that was taken from him by one lock on his cupboard's door. His thoughts a maelstrom of frustration, anger and desire to be free, Harry did not notice that the house had gotten quiet as the Dursleys had left for the day. All he knew was that he needed that lock to open. He needed to be free.

'JUST OPEN!' he yelled at the door.

.

.

.

Click.

Harry blinked owlishly at the door. Did he really hear that? Tentatively, Harry's hand reached out to the door knob and grasped it. He was afraid. Afraid to be disappointed. But then, he twisted the knob and gently pushed.

And the door opened.

"It opened" he whispered to himself in disbelief. "Vernon locked it, I know he did!" he said to himself a bit louder. "But then I told it to open, and the lock opened…" he marveled.

Harry had long had unusual occurrences happen around him, and usually, he was punished for any such occurrence severely by the Dursleys despite his protests that he hadn't done anything. From ending up on the school roof when running away from Dudley's "Harry Hunting" gang, to his hair regrowing overnight after an abysmal haircut by Petunia, unexplainable things happened to Harry too frequently to be discounted.

But this was different.

He did this. He may not have known that the lock would open when he yelled at it, but it obeyed nonetheless.

In a moment of realization, Harry connected the dots.

'Am I like Matilda?' he wondered in awe. 'I may not be as smart as her, but can I make weird things happen?'

Stepping out of the cupboard, Harry turned to look at the lock. He reached out and pulled the bolt closed, and open again. It seemed to be working normally.

Closing the cupboard door, and locking it again from the outside, Harry stared at the lock.

'Open' he said.

.

.

.

The lock stayed exactly where it was.

Harry sighed in frustration. "Come on, I know I did this!" he said to the lock. Thinking about Matilda, he realized what the key was. Emotion, and a deep need. He wasn't asking the lock to open. He was telling the lock that the only thing that it could do is be open, so that he could be free.

Focusing on that feeling, Harry looked at the lock again. Imagining that this lock was the lock that kept him trapped in this life, he said again 'Open!'

Click.

And so it did.

"YES!" Harry shouted, as he jumped up and punched the air.

The jarring motion made him remember that he had to pee… And so he bolted to the bathroom.

Standing at the sink, washing his hands, Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror. Messy dark hair, skinny pale face, and his clothes hanging on him like old bags. This is who he was to the world. His bright green eyes and his little scar were the only aspects of his appearance that hinted at something deeper inside him than his shabby appearance would suggest.

And now that he knew that his "freakishness" could be directed, he intended to set things straight. But he had to be careful… He had to think like Matilda when she dealt with the Trunchbull. He had to be subtle. As much as he wanted to shout out and leave the Dursley house immediately, he had to be clever. Plan, prepare and accomplish. That would be how he acted. If Vernon or Petunia got the idea that he could control his abilities, they may decide to hurt him more severely, or send him to a mental institution. And he didn't know precisely what he could or couldn't do.

He needed to experiment, and to do that, he needed the library.

"Happy Birthday Harry" he said as he smiled to himself "This is going to be the best birthday ever!"


	3. A chat with the librarian

His mind made up, Harry got himself ready. He went to his cupboard and picked up Matilda, as well as a notebook and some pencils. He would need to be thorough to make this work. He needed to know what he could do.

If past experience held true, the Dursleys wouldn't be back until 8pm. Since it was just about 10 in the morning, that gave him about 10 hours to get to the library, do the research and get back. He had to be careful to be back in time, or his secret would be out. If Vernon figured out that locks wouldn't hold him in his cupboard, what would Vernon do? Harry didn't want to find out.

Gathering his supplies, he grabbed his now empty school backpack and filled it with some left-over bread and whatever he could tell Petunia wouldn't notice was missing from the cupboards.

He headed to the library at a slight jog. It would be pretty disastrous to be caught outside by Dudley's gang when he's supposed to be locked in his cupboard. He knew he would be safe in the library once he got there, as none of Dudley's friends were the type of boys to enjoy books…

Reaching the library in just under 15 minutes, Harry found his corner and settled down. Setting down his backpack, Harry took out his favorite book, and headed to the librarian's desk. The lady sitting there was the same one he remembered from a week ago. She was young for an adult, he thought. She had a pleasant face, and colorfully rimmed glasses. Ms. Atwell, if he remembered correctly.

"Good morning, Ms. Atwell" said Harry.

"Good morning, young man" she replied as she looked up from the stack of books she was sorting. "It's Harry, is it not?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for remembering." He answered shyly.

"No thanks needed young man. I remember those who find a new passion for books. It always makes me happy to see people enjoy their reading, especially young people such as yourself, and it certainly looked like you enjoyed your reading when you were last here." She said enthusiastically. "Did you finish the book you were reading?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did." He replied. "I'm actually back today because I wanted to know if there were any more stories about this girl…"

Quirking her eyebrow in interest, she asked "And what girl has captivated you so, Harry?"

"Well, Matilda of course!" he said as he lifted the book he was returning and showed her the cover.

"Of course… Did you enjoy the story?"

"Yes, very much! Do you know if there are any more stories about her?" he asked excitedly.

"I'm sorry Harry, but as far as I know, there aren't."

"Oh." He sighed, his excitement turning to disappointment. "That's too bad, I really wanted to know what she would do next." He said, slightly dejected.

"I know the feeling Harry. Some of my favorite stories don't necessarily end with a clear end… And indeed, some of my all-time favorite stories don't end well at all."

Puzzled, he asked "don't all storybooks have happy endings?"

Smiling kindly, she looked at Harry's eyes and said "storybooks and stories reflect our lives Harry. Some stories start happily and end sadly, while others begin sadly and end happily. Life is not simple, and is very often unpredictable, and the stories we tell about life are equally so."

Harry looked at her questioningly, and asked "Matilda had a happy ending. Why can't all of us?"

Ms. Atwell sighed, pausing for a moment as she thought of a good way to answer the young boy's question. "When people do their best to help themselves and others, the chance for the story to end well definitely increases… Like Matilda, who tried very hard to help herself learn, and become the best she could be. And because she did that, she was able to help her friends, her family, Ms. Honey and the school as a whole achieve a happy ending." Looking at Harry directly again, she said "Matilda is a hero, and we can each be a hero if we really want to be. Be the best we can be every day, and every day, try to be a little bit better than the day before. After all, Matilda didn't read all the books she read in one day, right?"

"She didn't master her abilities in one day, either" said Harry, thinking about his own discovery earlier that morning.

"That's right! She had to discover them and work hard at mastering them before she was able to do anything for herself or anyone else." Said the librarian. "Discovering our gifts, and working hard to use them well is something that many people strive to do… Even me! I may not have amazing powers like Matilda, but I am proud of what I am. I am a librarian, and I work hard to help people like you find what they need. If I do this well, it could even be heroic. But many people don't try to be their best. Or if they do, they decide to use their gifts only for themselves, or to harm others. At the end of the day Harry, sad endings may just happen because people don't try hard enough to make them better."

"Well, I'm definitely not letting my life end the way it started" said Harry vehemently. "I will make my life better, like Matilda did."

Ms. Atwell looked at Harry for a moment as he made his declaration. 'What did he mean by that?' she thought to herself. 'Granted, he is wearing hand me downs, and he is on the skinnier side, but surely no one in this neighborhood would mistreat a child this young, or this good?'

"Harry, are things at home alright?" she asked, the worry showing plainly in her kind brown eyes.

Realizing he said too much, Harry tried to not let the panic show in his face. Though he knew the Dursleys lied to him often, he had also heard of the horrors suffered by children in orphanages from other sources. He knew that if he admitted that things were not well at the Dursleys, there was a chance that he would end up in one of those places.

"Oh no, Ms. Atwell, everything is fine" answered Harry with a straight face "I just meant I want to make things even better as I grow up". A decade of life with the Dursleys taught him very well how to hide his emotions and inner turmoil. Overt displays of distress were punished with even more distress.

Mollified, Ms. Atwell looked at Harry and smiled. "I'm glad that there are boys like you in the world, Harry. If the future is to ever have a happy ending for us all, we will need as many boys and girls to be heroes as we can find."

"I will do my best Ms. Atwell" said Harry earnestly.

"I'm sure you will Harry. Now was there something you wanted to ask?"

"Actually, yes. Would you be able to help me find some of the books Matilda has read? I would like to learn what she learned."

"Well, I can certainly do that. Which ones did you want to start with?"

"Umm, I think I'd like to try the story about the Lion? And also the one about the farm?"

"I believe you may be referring to "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe", as well as "Animal Farm", is that right?"

"Yes, those are the right names, I think…"

"Well, I can certainly get those for you if you'd like. Will you be holding on to "Matilda" a while longer? I believe you have another week before you have to return it."

"Well, I wanted to know if there was any way I could keep the book?" asked Harry hopefully. "I really liked it, and I would definitely want to read it again a few more times"

"Well, you could buy it, if your parents give you an allowance." Suggested Ms. Atwell.

"Oh, I live with my aunt and uncle, and they wouldn't let me spend money on books… Um, b-because we have so many at home" stammered Harry, partly bluffing.

"Well, we do have an exchange program, where you can donate old books to our library, and in return you can have one of ours, as long as we have extra copies of the book you keep."

"Oh, that sounds great!" said Harry. He knew that there were in fact some books Petunia used to try to read to Dudley when he was smaller, before she realized that Dudley didn't care and stopped getting them. He might be able to "donate" some of those. After all he knew that the library would get better use of it than Dudley ever would.

"I'll check with my aunt and uncle and see what books they'd be willing to donate" he said.

"That's marvelous dear! Well, let me finish sorting this stack here, and I'll go look for the books you wanted. Shall I hold them here for you?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am" replied Harry gratefully. "I'll be over in the corner over there" said Harry, pointing at the seat with his backpack on it.

"Isn't the school year over Harry? Why do you have your school bag with you?" asked the librarian gently.

"Oh, well, I'm trying to discover my gifts… Just like you said. I want to know what I'm good at so I can become even better."

"That is absolutely grand, Harry." She said, smiling at him fondly "I wish you the best of luck, and let me know if there is anything I can do to help."

"Thank you, ma'am. I really appreciate it."

Harry's mind and heart were feeling positively buoyant. Whether she knew it or not, Ms. Atwell had given him hope. Hope that he himself could make his life better. If Matilda could do it, then so could he. It won't be easy. His life was certainly no story book. But he will not allow there to be a sad ending.

He had a goal. He had a talent.

Now it was time to do the work.


	4. Experiments

Harry sat down at the little comfy seat and pulled one of the little tables closer to him. He took out his notebook and pen and sat quietly, thinking… How would Matilda figure this out? She would be careful. And she'd take it one step at a time.

'I need to make a list of all the weird things that have ever happened to me' he thought. 'Maybe they didn't happen to me, but instead I made them all happen.' Going through his memories, he managed to think of a few instances and wrote out a list.

Opening the Lock on the cupboard

Re-growing his hair after that terrible haircut.

Shrinking the orange sweater of Dudley's so it wouldn't fit over his head.

Ending up on the roof of the school when being chased by Dudley's gang.

Turning that mean teacher's wig blue.

Looking at this list, Harry realized something interesting. 'I'm not like Matilda…' he thought. 'Matilda can move things, but she has to see where they are and where they are going… Re-growing hair, or shrinking the sweater wouldn't be possible at all' he thought with growing trepidation. 'Matilda may have turned her dad's hair platinum, but she didn't use her powers for that… How did I turn Mr. Conch's wig blue?'

Sitting there, he was gripped by a sudden fear. Was he actually a freak? Were they right all along to call him that? After all, normal boys couldn't and wouldn't do anything like what he has done… Was he a monster? His mind awhirl, Harry's eyes started shifting back and forth rapidly, his anxiety ramping up. A yellow book catches his eye. Matilda sits there on the cover, blissfully reading her books. Harry's heartrate slows down. Matilda wasn't a freak. Matilda was special. And she wasn't a monster. She was a heroine. She helped people who deserved it, and even some people that didn't deserve it. She was good.

Harry wasn't a freak either… The Dursleys were wrong. He was special. He may not be as smart as Matilda. He was okay at maths, but he couldn't do the 14 times table by heart like she could when she was only 5. But if his list is right, his gifts were different and more varied.

Looking down at his list again, he wondered aloud "what can't I do?"…

He thought of all the instances on his list and realized, like he had earlier with the lock, that in each event he was feeling an emotion very strongly.

Next to each item on his list he wrote the emotion he could remember feeling:

Opening the Lock on the cupboard - Feeling trapped.

Re-growing his hair after that terrible haircut. - dreading the shame.

Shrinking the orange sweater of Dudley's so it wouldn't fit over his head. - Same fear of shame.

Ending up on the roof of the school when being chased by Dudley's gang. - Being desperate to not get caught by Dudley's gang. Wanting to get away to somewhere safe.

Turning that mean teacher's wig blue. - anger. He was angry at that teacher for making fun of one of the student's haircut. The teacher deserved to be embarrassed himself.

'Yes.' He thought 'this makes sense'.

Every time, he was feeling strongly about wanting something to happen. In fact, in all of the cases but with the lock, he didn't even speak his wish… Clearly, he didn't have to speak out his wish to make it happen. But did it make no difference at all? The only time he intentionally caused something to happen was when he spoke. Was that the difference? Doing things unintentionally required a higher degree of need, whereas if he wanted to make something happen in less dire straits, he had to speak his wish?

"I have a lot of things to explore" said Harry to himself quietly. He knew he had to narrow things down. Would wishing his backpack to open without touching it be the same as opening the lock on his cupboard?

"Well, I better start trying" he mumbled, glancing at his backpack.

Looking around himself, Harry saw that there was no one around. He set his backpack down on the ground, hiding it between himself and the table, and closed all the zippers. Looking around again to ensure no one was watching, he turned to the backpack and summoning all his will, imagining that he needed something in the backpack desperately, he looked and the backpack and said "Open". He felt a brief pulse from within his heart spread out into his arms, through his arms and out of his hands.

All the zippers on the backpack zipped about half way open all at once.

'Well, that's interesting' thought Harry. 'Why halfway?' he wondered. 'The lock on the cupboard opened all the way when I told it to.'

Zipping the backpack closed once more, Harry considered it carefully. There were three sippers on his backpack. There was only one lock that was locked on his cupboard door that morning. Was it just an issue of numbers? Or was what he focused on different? He thought about the pulse he felt. It felt as though whatever this was, came out of his hands. He wouldn't have noticed it in any of those accidental incidents as he was too pre-occupied with the emotions he was feeling at that particular moment, but it seemed like in his case, his power preferred to travel through his hands, rather than his eyes like Matilda.

Looking at his backpack once more, Harry stretched his hand out towards it and focused on the backpack. Paying attention to his feelings while letting himself feel the need, he spoke once more. "Open". He felt the pulse travel from his heart through his right arm, and he felt it was definitely more concentrated. His arm almost vibrated as he spoke.

All the zippers on the backpack zipped fully open all at once.

"YES!" He whooped. 'Oops' he thought immediately. 'Hopefully, no one will pay attention'.

Looking around quickly, he made sure no one was looking at his direction. Luckily enough, it seemed that this early in the day, there weren't many patrons at the library. Ms. Atwell must have still been returning the books she was sorting as well.

Looking at his list, Harry decided to amend it once more.

Opening the Lock on the cupboard - Feeling trapped. - "Open"

Regrowing his hair after that terrible haircut. - dreading the shame. "Grow" ?

Shrinking the orange sweater of Dudley's so it wouldn't fit over his head. - Same. "Shrink" ?

Ending up on the roof of the school when being chased by Dudley's gang. - Being desperate to not get caught by Dudley's gang. Wanting to get away to somewhere safe. "Disappear""Fly" ?

Turning that mean teacher's wig blue. - anger. He was angry at that teacher for making fun of one of the student's haircut. The teacher deserved to be embarrassed himself. "Change" ? "Switch" ?

He thought that there must be a command word for each of his abilities, but he struggled to come up with ones that would work for some of what he wanted to do.

"Might as well try the ones I can try here in the library" mumbled Harry to himself. Looking over his list again, Harry tried to judge which ones he could try here. He decided that growing his hair, or trying to disappear and reappear somewhere else would not really work here. The other two though… Those he could try.

Ripping out a page from his notebook, he placed it in front of himself on the table. After thinking for a moment, he decided to place his backpack on the table as well, to hide the paper a little bit. Once again, he pointed his hand towards the piece of paper, he willed it to become bright green.

"Switch!"

The now familiar pulse surged through, and the previously white piece of paper became bright green, the same shade he saw when looked at the mirror in the morning. Thrilled, Harry tried again.

"Switch!" now imagining it to be the color of his raven hair.

And black it became.

Eager to keep exploring, Harry tried shrinking it next.

"Shrink!" he commanded, imagining that the paper was a note from his teachers at school that he was meant to give to the Dursleys.

The paper shrank to the size of a postage stamp.

Feeling a sense of elation that he could not ever remember feeling, Harry stood up.

Immediately he felt a wave of dizziness and lightheadedness overtake him. Suddenly feeling drained, Harry collapsed back into the seat.

'Whoa… ' he thought 'that made me feel really sleepy all of a sudden… I've got to get back, or else I'll fall asleep here and won't make it back in time.' Looking at the clock mounted on the wall, he saw that he had already spent two hours there and it was a little past noon. He could not risk not being back in his cupboard when the Dursleys returned.

Gathering his things slowly, Harry packed his backpack. Gathering his wits and his will, and fighting an overwhelming urge to fall asleep, Harry stood and headed over to Ms. Atwell's desk. She wasn't there. Looking around, he saw her heading back to the desk with several books in her hands. She smiled as she looked up and saw him waiting. He smiled in return, glad that someone thought he was worthy of a smile, and not a grimace or frown.

"Here are the books you wanted Harry. I apologize for taking so long to grab them for you, there were a lot of books to return to their homes on the shelves" said Ms. Atwell apologetically.

"Oh… Please don't apologize. You've helped me loads already." Replied Harry sincerely.

After checking out his books, Harry bid Ms. Atwell goodbye and left the library.

He thought for a moment of trying to disappear and reappear at 4 Privet Drive. But then thought better of it. If changing the color of the paper and shrinking it took it out of him, what would teleporting 2 miles do?

Walking as briskly as he could, given how tired he felt, Harry tried to stick to a route that reduced the risk of being seen by Dudley's gang or by any nosy neighbors. He did NOT want word of his trip out of the house to get back to the Dursleys.

Luckily for Harry, he made it back in a relatively short time, and by half past noon was back at Privet Drive. After putting down his backpack with his books in the cupboard, Harry headed to the kitchen. After pouring some water for himself, he sat down at the kitchen table and took a moment to reflect on the momentous events that took place today.

'I am gifted. I am not a freak.' He thought to himself with no small amount of wonder.

After eating some of the leftovers he had packed earlier, finishing his water, and using the loo one more time, Harry headed back to his cupboard. He decided he would read Matilda's story again until he fell asleep. He was sure the Dursleys would be "kind enough" to wake him up when they got home.

Settling down on his "bed", Harry started to read with the light of the sun shining through the open door of his cupboard.

'Wait, Harry' he thought to himself 'the door can't be open when they get back! It has to be closed and locked. What am I going to do?'.

Looking at the book in his hands, Harry smiled.

'Are you gifted or not?' he thought to himself. 'I should have enough energy for one more little trick…'

Closing the door with his hand, he then pointed said hand at where he knew the lock was and said 'Lock!'

.

.

.

Click.

And though Harry was again locked in his cupboard, he had never felt freer.

"Happy Birthday Harry!" he whispered to himself "Told you it would be the best ever…"

Feeling even more tired now, Harry laid down and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep. For the first time in a long while, Harry's dreams were not only of desperation and sadness. He also dreamt of the hope of freedom.

He would not remember this dream for a long time, but in his dreams, he was flying a motorcycle through the clouds.


	5. Birthdays with the Dursleys

When the Dursleys returned later that evening, and woke him up from his sleep, Harry had to pretend to be desperately needful of the toilet. Running as quickly as he could to the loo, Harry deftly avoided Dudley's attempt to trip him, as well as managing to ignore Dudley's jeers of "Don't pee your pants Potter!" to the sounds of Vernon's loud guffaw. Closing the bathroom door behind him, Harry took a moment to marvel at the fact that Dudley managed to alliterate, before going about his business in the bathroom. After washing up, Harry listened at the door carefully before risking coming out. Hoping to avoid any attention, Harry tried to hurry back into his cupboard.

"Boy!" barked Vernon from the kitchen.

Harry froze.

"Come here" came another bark.

Keeping his eyes down, Harry walked into the kitchen, stopping by the doorway. "Yes, Uncle Vernon?"

Vernon handed Harry a brown paper bag. "Take this to your cupboard and stay there".

Not questioning it, Harry took the bag, hurried back to his cupboard and closed the door. Turning on the overhead light-bulb, Harry looked in the bag. Inside he found a store-bought corned beef sandwich wrapped in a smudged, seemingly used napkin that said "Happy Birthday" on it. He also found an old coat hanger and a pair of clean, albeit old and worn pair of Vernon's socks.

Harry sat down heavily on his cot, surveying his 'birthday presents'. He felt conflicted. On the one hand, this was probably the nicest thing they've ever done for his birthday, and he even got a sandwich! They even acknowledged that today actually was his birthday… He should be elated. Years ago, when he was even smaller, he would have given anything to be shown a bit of kindness from his family, to see some sign from them that he was worthy of appreciation.

Now, on the other hand, Vernon's gesture seemed like a mockery of what birthdays with a family should be like. Like they wanted him to remember that he wasn't really a part of their family, but instead some unpleasant parasite they were foisted with. They reminded him of all the ways they did not treat him nearly as well as their own Dudley. They never gave Dudley a coat hanger… A bitter taste built in the back of his throat. Jealousy and bitterness started to build in his chest. His head started to pound in time with the surges of heat from his heart. Harry's heart felt on fire. A sickly heat that made him feel heady and nauseous at the same time. His hands tightened around the now empty paper bag, crumpling it into a ball. With a surge of heat and power rushing through his arm, Harry threw the paper ball at the cupboard door, his anger and pain coursing through his arm to give it unnatural strength. As the ball flew from his grasp, a sickly green fire extended itself from his index finger, engulfing the paper ball and incinerating it in the millisecond before it would have hit his cupboard door.

Harry stared at the door, his eyes momentarily blinded by the flash of fire. His shock causing the heat in his chest to disappear.

What just happened?!

Harry looked down at his hand. His index finger had a green glow to it that was quickly dissipating.

The green glow seemed very familiar to Harry. Wracking his brain, Harry tried to remember why that color seemed familiar.

.

.

And then, he remembered.

A bright green flash. A sickly green color, wholly unlike the vibrant, living green of his eyes. And a sharp pain in his forehead.

The car crash. The moment his life had changed forever. This was a nightmare that he had had since the one time he tried really hard to remember his parents. A vision that he never understood.

Until now.

It wasn't a car crash. It was this power. Did someone do this to him? Did someone else, who has this power as well, hurt his parents? Is that why they died?

Suddenly, a terrible fear filled his heart. His stomach sank.

"Was it me?!" he asked himself. "Are my parents dead because of me?!" A wave of pain and anguish washed through him, shattering the tiny reserve of self-esteem he had built up.

"I'm not special… I killed my parents…" he whispered to himself, crying silently into his hands. No one had come for him when his parents died. Somehow, he had ended up with the Dursleys. His father's family must not have wanted him. And why would they? It all made sense now. He had killed his parents with this power, and whoever found him could not find anyone in his proper family to take him in as a baby. They obviously didn't tell his aunt and uncle about how his parents really died, or they never would have taken him in either.

He laid down on his cot and curled up tight, trying to hold back the tears and the sobs from escaping. Even now, overwhelmed by his pain, he knew he couldn't break the rules of the Dursley house. He mustn't show how much it hurt.

But he couldn't stop the silent tears from falling.

Despite the 8 hour nap he had had earlier, he felt overwhelmingly tired again.

He looks over to his stack of books, the ones he had borrowed from the library earlier today, and sees Matilda sitting on top of the book pile again, as cheerful as ever. Would Matilda be his friend if she knew him? He didn't have any friends at school, but over the last week, as he got to know Matilda in the book, he kept daydreaming about what it'd be like to be friends with Matilda or someone like her. Someone brave, and smart and kind. Would they even want to be friends with a freak like him? What would Matilda tell him if she was there? In his imagination, Matilda steps out of the book cover, and fixes him with a disapproving frown. 'Is she angry with me?', he wonders. She looks his own age, but her eyes look intelligent and wise far beyond her years.

Then something unexpected happens.

In his mind's eye, Matilda asks "Why do you think you're a monster? You've never intentionally hurt anyone, so why would you think that you did this?"

"But… the green light… That was me…" Harry replied weakly.

"That's a big leap, Harry" said Matilda "have you so little faith in yourself, that you'd think that your baby-self would be blamed for an accident? And that's assuming you were actually responsible…"

"But then, why was I left here?" pleaded Harry.

"I don't know, Harry, and I'm sure you'll find out one day. But I do know one thing…" she said soothingly "it was not your fault."

"How do you know for sure?" asked Harry.

"Because you were a baby, Harry" Matilda pointed out "you had no idea, and no control of what was or wasn't happening."

"I've never heard of anyone shooting green fire from their fingers, who else could it have been?" He shrugged.

"Well Harry, if there were people who could do such things, would they talk about it, or keep it a secret?" asked Matilda with a knowing smirk. "Did YOU tell the librarian about what you could do?"

"Ummm… no, I didn't" admitted Harry. In a flash of inspiration, he realized the truth. "Could it be I'm not alone?! I'm not a freak?!"

"Well, Harry, do you think I'm a freak?" asked Matilda.

"No, you're wonderful! You always help people!" answered Harry earnestly.

"And you do too, Harry, even without realizing it" replied Matilda kindly.

Harry paused. His heart seemed lighter somehow at her words. But he still remembered that sickly heat in his heart, rushing through his arm and incinerating the paper bag in a flash of green fire.

"Why do you think the color of the fire, and the color of the green flash are so similar?" asked Harry. Matilda was the smartest person he knew, and if anyone could figure it out it would be her.

"Harry, I'm only as smart as you are, which is plenty smart" said Matilda, seeming to read his thoughts. "After all, you brought me into this dream from your own mind."

"This is a dream?" he gasped. "If this is a dream, then that means you're not real?" asked Harry despondently.

"Sure, it's a dream, but why would that make this any less real?" answered Matilda with a knowing look.

"You have a sharp mind Harry, if you choose to use it. As long as you learn to be careful in judging the ideas that come into your head, you will figure things out. Don't give in to despair, and don't blame yourself for everything. Be fair with yourself. I believe in you."

With that, Matilda came closer and hugged Harry for a few seconds. He was enveloped by a sense of peace that had never felt before. He can figure things out. He will find out what is happening to him, and what he can do to make his life better.

"Now sleep Harry, and remember that you can be the person that you want yourself to be."

That night, for the first time in a long time, Harry had no nightmares.


	6. The Scar, A Vow, and the Best Summer Ever

The next morning, Harry woke up quite early. There was no light at all coming from the cracks around the cupboard door, which meant that the sun wasn't up and no one else was awake to turn on the lights.

Rising slowly from his cot, Harry rubbed his eyes clear before putting his glasses on. The overhead lightbulb was still on from the evening before, casting light on his 'birthday presents'.

The sight of them brought feelings of jealousy and anger to his heart again, causing Harry to pause. He thought of his dream, and Matilda's words.

"It's weird that I can remember it, though, innit?" Harry wondered aloud. It wasn't often, if ever, that he remembered a dream with as much clarity as he did the one from last night.

She had told him that the dream was real. How could that be? Are some dreams real, and some aren't? His nightmare about the car crash was real, except it wasn't a car crash. It was the power, maybe even his own power… Feeling that sense of guilt and shame start to pull at him, he reminded himself of Matilda's words once more. Matilda said that it wasn't his fault, and to not jump to conclusions.

Well, he could certainly try not to. It was hard though. Especially when he felt upset. He remembered how angry and jealous he had felt, staring at the ashes of the now-incinerated paper bag that had held his "birthday presents". He remembered the heat in his heart. That sickening heat that made him feel so nauseous and yet powerful at the same time…

"What WAS that?" he asked himself.

He was feeling at odds with himself. On the one hand he had good reason to be angry. And the power that flowed through him felt good. But to feel that angry made him sick too. He felt a feeling he had never felt before towards the Dursleys. Throughout his life with them, he had felt sadness, disappointment, frustration, anger, shame, guilt and fear. But there was one feeling that was alien to him until now. Hatred.

He had felt hatred.

His heart had felt full of a strange kind of fuel, pumping heat through his body, alongside the pounding pulse he felt in his head, beating in time with his heartbeat.

No… Not his head. His forehead. The ache was in his forehead.

In his scar.

He needed to see it.

Getting himself together, he quickly and quietly made his way to the bathroom. He doubted anyone would be up for a while, but better safe than sorry. Once in front of the bathroom mirror, he moved his bangs and leaned in to examine his scar.

Unless his eyes were playing tricks on him, his scar was much more noticeable. It appeared more reddish, even slightly inflamed, as if he had suffered a sunburn. And around the edge of the scar, just the slightest tinge of green…

Now Harry didn't think himself the smartest or most knowledgeable 10-year-old boy in the world, but even he knew that normal scars did not react to mood changes. But at the same time, who was to know what should be considered normal when it came to Harry? Harry had never before noticed any changes to his scar in all the years he had lived with the Dursleys. He wondered why it would start reacting now.

Looking back at the past 24 hours, he realized how many things have happened that have turned his world upside down and sideways. Did it have to do with him turning 10? Or was it the discovery of his powers? Or was it again how he was feeling in the moment of his powers working?

There were too many possible questions, and no one to really ask for answers.

But as has become his habit in the past week, Harry asked himself: "What would Matilda do?"

Immediately, the answer came: "Go to the library!"

One thing that did occur to Harry at that moment, was that when he used his powers in the library the day before, there was no green glow. There was no raging moment of sickly green fire.

The only difference he could tell, was what he felt each time he used his powers, and how different those feelings were from one another. In the library, as in the accidental occurrences in the past, it was a deep need. Last night, it was the feeling of hate. The feeling of wanting something destroyed. And the more Harry thought about it, the less he liked that feeling.

Though there were many things he disliked about his family, such as it was, he never wished them harm. The only thing he ever wanted was to be treated like a normal boy, and not some kind of unwanted, unloved nuisance. He only wanted to be a part of a family… A real family.

The light of realization glinting in the eyes of his mirror self, Harry made a decision.

"I will never use my power when I'm feeling hateful." He vowed with a whisper, looking at his mirror twin's eyes. "These powers are for the things I need, or for helping friends like Matilda does, not for hurting people, even if I don't like them…"

Looking at his reflection, he noticed something odd. The redness of his scar was noticeably lessened compared to earlier, and the green tinge was gone as well.

'Well…' thought Harry 'that's a good sign.'

Feeling encouraged that he made an important choice, and made it correctly, Harry then went about getting ready for the day.

After brushing his teeth and taking a quick shower, Harry stood in front of the mirror once more, his wet raven locks still damp after toweling, and he remembered another trick he wanted to try. Closing his eyes and holding his hands on each side of his head, Harry tried to imagine what he wanted to achieve, and let his power flow from his heart through his hands and out of his fingers. He remembered the mortifying feeling he felt when Petunia gave him that awful haircut.

"Change" he commanded, and his fingers pulsed.

He opened his eyes and found himself looking at a much neater looking head of hair than before. Precisely the right length to make his scar a little less obvious, but not obscuring it completely. And the rest of his hair, though by no means tame, was no longer a crow's nest of dark hair. It laid on his head in a somewhat messy way still, but not sticking out in all directions. It rather looked like some wind had blown and swept his hair back and to his right.

"Not bad" he said, smiling at his reflection. "Maybe now, no one will think I'm homeless".

Wrapped up in his towel, he headed back to his cupboard. Closing the door, he got out some of his hand-me-downs and laid them out on his cot. Smiling to himself, Harry went about the work of shrinking the clothes a bit. Not too much that they would fit properly and cause suspicion, but enough so that he wouldn't have to belt his pants with shoe strings on top of a belt or feeling like he was swimming in his clothes. Satisfied, Harry got dressed and went about sorting out his cupboard. He realized that the more tricks he did in a row, the quicker he got tired. He had to be careful to not overdue it, otherwise he'd get in trouble for being too tired to do the chores he had to do during the day… Thankfully, he didn't feel too drained at moment, and so once done with the cupboard, he realized that he could see the sunlight peeking through the windows, which meant Petunia would be up before long. Harry wanted to get his chores done early, before the heat of the summer would make it unbearable. Hopefully, he'd be able to get back to his cupboard and read. Matilda learned a lot from reading, who knows what he could learn from books? Were there books out there that could teach him about his powers?

Harry did a quick and quiet tour of the house, mentally noting the chores Petunia would most likely assign him and began working. After about an hour, about 80% was done, and glancing at the clock showing the time to be nearly 7am, Harry knew it was time to get breakfast done.

This time, he'll be much more careful when Dudley came downstairs. He didn't want a repeat of the other day…

The morning went by without a hitch.

Careful not to get caught unawares, Harry managed to get everything done quickly and efficiently. It helped that he wasn't tripping over oversized clothes too. Before long, and with the remarkable non-event of not getting yelled at by anyone for anything, having come to pass, Harry was feeling pretty good.

After all these years of living with the Dursleys, he might finally have hope of building a normal life for himself.

For the rest of the summer, the pattern repeated itself. Harry would get up earlier and get all the chores done that he could, being careful to make it as impossible as possible to avoid getting in trouble. Any time the Dursleys were away from the house, Harry took the opportunity to take the books he had finished back to the library and exchanged them for new ones.

He had in fact managed to retrieve some of Dudley's old, unused books, and exchanged them in the library for his own copy of Matilda. Her book had a place of honor in his cupboard, sitting proudly on the little rickety shelf in the side of the cupboard wall that faced the interior. This made it visible to Harry when he laid down in his cot, but out of the eyeline of Vernon, unless his uncle poked his walrus head into the cupboard and looked to his right.

Matilda was a constant companion, helping him keep his spirits up even when the Dursleys did something to try and bring him down. She also helped him remember his goal. To find a way to better himself and help those who deserved it. And so, he kept reading, kept learning, and kept testing his powers carefully.

A big breakthrough came when he figured out how to multiply his meager food allowances. With a command driven by hunger, he told the meager serving of cold cuts on one slice of bread to "Multiply", and it did. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was actually feeling full most days.

Not having to sleep on a hungry stomach did wonders for his energy in the mornings and throughout the day. He was even able to use his powers more often in the day. Not only that, but as the summer went on, Harry noticed that his modified clothes started to fit a little better every week naturally. Looking in the mirror after his morning showers, Harry noticed that his knobby knees were becoming less and less knobby. He found that he could run even faster than he could before, easily managing to outpace Dudley's gang in their weekly Harry Hunts. It even started becoming sort of fun… Watching those boys huffing and puffing and they tried to catch him, with no success. He didn't even have to use his powers!

And with his improved health, his mind improved as well. Harry found himself reading for longer and understanding more when he did. His ability to focus on whatever he was doing seemed to improve as well.

Over the course of the summer, Harry managed to get through many of the books Matilda did, though not all. He learned much about a lot. The stories he read about other orphans who managed to make a life for themselves, like Oliver Twist, and Pip from "Great Expectations", as well as the Pevensie children in Narnia, inspired him to keep trying. Like Matilda, there were many parts of some of the older books that he didn't quite understand, but he figured he would one day.

His attention in the library, however, was directed elsewhere. He was looking for an answer to where his powers came from. He was worried about asking Ms. Atwell directly about that, as he didn't want to slip up. And so, he spent many hours looking for such a source, with no proper answer presenting itself. All the books that he found were either marked 'fantasy' or were books about the illusions that magicians make with sleight of hand. Though entertaining, and indeed, somewhat useful, as he started practicing some of the sleight of hand movements, they didn't really provide conclusive proof to his question.

Finally, he found comic books. A never-ending array of characters with powers of all kinds. He loved the stories, and found them really entertaining, but he still knew they weren't real. The closest character he could find that could do what he did was Zatanna the sorceress, who spoke backwards to make magic happen. But he didn't need to speak backwards. Could it be that what he was doing was literal magic? He couldn't find a concrete answer to that question.

Funnily enough, he thought he figured out Matilda's powers. Matilda was a line-of-sight telekinetic, who could move more than she'd be able to physically. Telekinetic was a fun word. He learned a lot of words like that from the books and comic books he read. Psychokinesis. Teleportation. Telepathy. Molecular manipulation. Exoskeleton. Matilda, as usual, was right. Reading was one of the best things he could do to improve himself. And with comic books, he also got pretty cool pictures too!

It had been the best summer Harry could remember having.

And as far as Harry could see, even the rapidly approaching school year could not dampen his outlook. He had re-read Matilda several times, and her infectious optimism passed to him. Despite a life of disappointment, he started to believe again. He thought that with everything that happened, and everything he has learned, and with the changes he has undergone, he could make a brand-new impression on his classmates in his final year of primary school.

Who knew, maybe he would actually find friends…


	7. Summer's End, and a New Beginning

Summer was coming to a close. In two weeks, September 1st would arrive, though because September 1st, 1990 fell on a Saturday, school wouldn't start until the 3rd.

Harry was thinking about what awaited him in his last year of primary school.

In the past, Dudley and his friends made sure to scare off any of the other children from befriending him, mainly by threatening to beat them up. And though Harry knew he was Dudley's favourite target, he also knew he wasn't the only one. He knew there were other boys, and a few girls too, who would get harassed by Dudley's gang regularly. Was there anything Harry could do about that? Was there a way to make friends that wouldn't cause other kids to suffer by being friends with him?

He knew that Matilda made friends when she went to school by treating everyone kindly and doing her best to protect them when possible. From Lavender and Amanda to Brucey, Matilda did what she could to help and encourage her friends when they needed it, even if it meant using her powers (carefully…).

Would he be able to do the same?

How could he prevent a future friend from getting hurt? How could he stop Dudley from bullying people, without Dudley tattling to his parents, making Vernon and Petunia angry?

Such thoughts preoccupied Harry with more and more regularity as the time drew close to return to school.

Harry did have a bit of a change over the summer though.

While before, he might have shrunk back and let whatever life threw at him batter him down, now Harry was trying something different. He knew that he was nowhere near as clever as Matilda is, but he knew that if he wanted his life to change, he had to be the one to do something about it.

And so, the thoughts of the upcoming school year, the last school year that he would share with Dudley, have occupied Harry's mind constantly. And it wasn't only the tentative hope of making friends that was on his mind.

In years past, Harry had learned that any sign from him of eclipsing Dudley in any area of achievement would be viewed  **very**  negatively by his aunt and uncle. And so, after the first few times he tried to excel in his first year of school, and was punished for it, Harry only ever did what he had to do to avoid any letters going home with complaints. The rule was, if the Dursleys could pretend he didn't exist, then his life wasn't as terrible. Letters about him, of any kind, were discouraged. And so, for the past five years of schooling, Harry got by, doing his best to be invisible.

After everything Harry had gone through this summer, he knew this could not continue. Matilda didn't let her family discourage her from doing her best, and Harry intended to follow her example.

But the question remained… How could he do his best while making sure Dudley doesn't get wind of it, raising the wrath of Vernon and Petunia?

Thinking about all he learned this summer; Harry was trying to decide if he could use his powers to solve some of these problems. And so, a week before the beginning of school, Harry found himself in the library once more. The Dursleys had taken Dudley and Piers to an amusement park, and so wouldn't be back until much later in the evening, after dropping off Piers at his home. Harry had already taken care of the chores he had to and was now sitting in his regular spot in the library with his notebook, trying to sort out the problems that have been plaguing his mind. As had become a habit, Harry was writing things out.

First, he wrote down all of the powers that he had learned to use reliably. These included "Open", "Lock", "Switch", "Change", "Shrink", "Grow" and "Multiply". All of these powers would be really useful in school. He could "switch" report cards from As to Cs to bring home… He could "lock" bullies in classrooms or toilets so they wouldn't bother his friends. He could "multiply" school supplies in case a friend needed something…

There was one power however, that he knew he had used once, but had so far been afraid to try again… Disappearing and reappearing elsewhere. What if he tried it again and got stuck somewhere? When he had done that accidentally, when being chased by Dudley's gang, he didn't even know what he was doing, and he ended up on the school roof. What if this power was much more difficult to control? Based the comic books he had read, he thought maybe it wouldn't be that difficult… But he had to remind himself that Nightcrawler of the X-men wasn't real, and Harry's own powers were different. The time before, no one had mentioned a cloud of sulfur smoke when he disappeared.

Harry felt however, that he had to try. It saved him from a beating last time, even if it got him in trouble later. What if he needed to do it again? What if he needed to help a friend? He couldn't let himself be afraid to help.

His mind made up, and resolve fortified, Harry considered how to test himself. 'I could try here in the library' he thought 'not too many people around right now, and I know it very well. I could try a very small distance… and see if I can manage it'.

Harry stood up from his usual corner, and walked over the far corner of the library, a spot he knew was mostly invisible to the rest of the library's patrons. Ensuring no one could see him, he concentrated on what he knew to be the key, the desperate feeling of needing to get away to safety. Harry then pictured in his mind where he wanted to go, the opposite corner of the library, which was also shielded from onlookers by tall shelving.

Not remembering what word he had decided to use as a command, Harry was starting to feel a bit strange… Like he was getting squished slowly, a most unpleasant feeling. Harry stopped and opened his eyes, and the feeling went away. 'I don't remember a squishing feeling last time… but I  **was**  distracted' he thought. Closing his eyes again, Harry thought for a moment, deciding on a command word. A few seconds later, he had it. Thinking of the destination and remembering the feeling he needed to fuel his power, Harry smiled, and said "Bamf!"

A split second of being squished tightly, like peanut butter through a straw, and Harry opened his eyes to find himself on the other side of the library.

'I did it!' he thought, amazed.

Walking back to his usual seat, Harry noticed two things. One, he was winded, as if he had just done 10 of his tricks in a row… Two, he saw Ms. Atwell rushing to the corner of the library he had just disappeared from. Curious, Harry cocked his head and made to follow her, before Matilda's voice in his head told him to wait. 'No need to rush' it said, 'she'll come back, and you can ask her then'. Feeling a little bit short of breath and agreeing that this was a very sensible course of action, Harry decided to go back to his seat.

A few moments later, Ms. Atwell made her way back to her desk, a puzzled look on her face.

"You alright Ms. Atwell?" called Harry, loud enough for her to hear.

"Oh, yes Harry, I'm quite alright… But did you hear that noise?" she replied with a question.

"What noise, ma'am?"

"Well, I could have sworn I'd heard a loud crack… Like one of the bookshelves broke in half. It sounded like it came from the corner of the library, but I went to check, and I didn't see anything amiss…" she said, trailing off at the end her sentence, her mind clearly puzzled.

"Oh" said Harry, his mind abuzz. His "Bamfing" was clearly the cause of that noise, though he himself had not heard it while he was being squished. And the sound was loud if Ms. Atwell heard it as loud as she did. He had to be careful when using that power, or he could easily get discovered.

'So, it's loud, and I feel really winded if I use it, even for short distances…' thought Harry. 'I will have to save it for emergencies only, when there is no other option.'

Settling down, Harry then went about making a list of possible uses for all of his powers that would help him in school. Smiling to himself, he made his plans, and thought that this school year would certainly be different than any before.

* * *

The morning of Monday September 3rd finally came. Dudley had just left for school after breakfast, while Harry still had to tidy up after everyone before he could leave. Thankfully, he packed his school backpack the night before, and thanks to his improved health and stamina, was pretty confident he could make it to the school on time.

'Still, wouldn't hurt to hurry' he thought.

Getting the kitchen cleaned up quickly and efficiently wasn't hard due to his years of practice, and once done, he ran to his cupboard, grabbed his bag and headed to school. Taking the route that would take him past the library was second nature at this point, and also served to help him avoid meeting Dudley's gang on the way.

He arrived at the school, and not seeing Dudley around, headed to the notice board, to see which classrooms Year 6 students were meant to report to. Noting his name and the corresponding details, he headed to his assigned room, passing quite a few students he knew by sight from the previous years. Funnily enough, they didn't seem to recognize him. Trying to be friendly, and to turn over a new leaf, Harry smiled and waved at some of the students he remembered to be nice. After seeming startled for a moment, some waved back, recognizing him. One of the girls, Sally-Anne, actually stared at him open-mouthed for a few moments before shaking her head as if to clear it. He wasn't sure why they were confused… He was still the same boy, even if his clothes fit a bit better.

He wouldn't understand this for many years, but to his fellow pupils, seeing him again after the long summer, he was nigh unrecognizable. Though his hair wasn't a nest, his clothes fit better, and his overall appearance was much better due to his vastly improved nutrition, it was the way he carried himself that made the most difference.

No longer trying to be invisible, and walking with a relaxed yet purposeful gait, he exuded an aura of active, yet calm positivity. In years prior, he worked to make himself invisible so as to not attract attention that would get back to his aunt and uncle and cause him trouble. Now, though he was still aware of the need for caution, it was not the overwhelming instinct driving his behaviour. He did however, wonder to himself if he was jumping in too deep... So far, none of the other kids approached him, and he wondered if the fear of Dudley was still compelling them all to stay away. He hoped as the day went on, that he'd have an opportunity to talk with some of them, especially those who Dudley had bullied in the past, and see what he could do to help them.

* * *

He didn't have to wait long.

Later in the afternoon, during break time, Harry was leaving the building to go to the playground, when he saw Dudley's gang chasing a small, blond, bespectacled boy named Daniel Westin. By the look of terror on the boy's face, and the all-too-familiar look of gleeful malice on the faces of Dudley and his friends, Harry knew exactly how this chase would end if he didn't intervene. But he still had to be careful. It didn't look like Dudley's gang had seen Harry, which was good. Taking off at a light jog to keep up with the chase, Harry managed to duck into some shrubbery on the side of the building. It looked like the gang would corner the blond boy in the next few seconds, as Daniel seemed to realize, as he turned to face his tormentors and meekly accept his fate. Thinking quickly, Harry pointed his hands between the branches of the shrub, at Dudley's and Piers's shoes, and commanded in a quiet but firm voice "Open!".

The shoelaces of both Dudley's and Piers's shoes untied themselves, and as they were both running somewhat quickly, they inevitably stepped on their own shoelaces and tripped face first into the ground. The rest of the gang, being right behind them, fell on top of them in a massive dog-pile. Cries of frustrated pain and childish anger rang out from the heap. These cries were heard by one of the teachers (Mr. Welch.) who was the play yard supervisor, who finally noticed them and came over to see what the ruckus was about.

Harry saw Daniel standing there, wide-eyed, seemingly amazed at his own stroke of luck. The teacher, seeing only Daniel standing upright, started asking him some questions. Harry couldn't quite hear the conversation, but it looked like the teacher's face was becoming more of a thunderhead by the second, as he turned his furious gaze to the pile of bullies on the ground.

"Dursley! Polkiss! And the rest of you sorry lot! Follow me! Now!" called the teacher. "And you better not try and sneak away... I've seen all your faces and trying to escape will only cost you even more."

Harry waited in the shrubbery, careful not to move or make noise of any kind, trying to blend into the shrub with every fiber of his being. This whole thing would only work if Dudley had no reason to think Harry was involved. As the entourage of teacher and bullies drew closer, he felt a shiver run from the top of his head to his toes... His nerves were on edge. He waited with bated breath until the entourage had passed and he heard them enter the building proper. Exhaling slowly, feeling the warmth return to his fingers and toes, Harry stood up and out of the shrubbery and walked over to Daniel.

Daniel was still standing there, the same amazed yet puzzled expression on his face as he looked at the spot on the ground where the pile of bullies had briefly occupied. Looking up and seeing Harry, Daniel looked surprised to see him.

"Did you see that?" asked Daniel with a bewildered tone "I thought I was done for! And then all of a sudden, all their shoelaces all untied themselves! And BAM! Down they went!"

"Yeah, I saw" said Harry, smiling "I was behind the shrub over there" pointing at the shrub behind him.

"But how did it happen? They've been chasing me for 5 minutes already! Their shoelaces weren't untied then..." wondered Daniel.

"Does it matter?" asked Harry "It looks like they might get a detention on the first day of school, which means all the rest of us, who just want to enjoy our break time in peace, finally can... At least for a bit."

Daniel looked at Harry with what Harry thought was a rather disconcerting look. Staring at Harry with his head tilted sideways, as if seeing him for the first time, Daniel seemed to think for a moment before asking "Did you do this? Did you do that to them?"

"What?! How could I?" asked Harry, not lying precisely.

"I don't know... But it can't be a coincidence that you were there. Why were you hiding in there any way?" asked Daniel.

"Hello, my name is Harry Potter, and Dudley Dursley is my bestest friend..." replied Harry with a slight touch of sarcasm.

"Is it true that he's your cousin?" asked Daniel with a skeptical tone.

"To my undying shame, yes."

"Then why does he hate you?"

"I honestly don't know... Maybe I make him feel fat."

"But he is fat"

"Yes, but it's how he feels about it that makes him angry"

"Huh... I guess that makes sense"

"You're Daniel, right?"

"Yeah, Daniel Westin. Though you can call me Dan. I gotta say Harry, even though I don't know how you did it, thanks for that save mate."

"No thanks needed Dan."

"So, not denying it, then?"

"I'm sure I do not know what you mean…"

"Well, we don't have much time left in the break, but would you like to come play basketball? One on one? I'm not very good, but I still like it."

"Sure!" replied Harry. This was officially the first time anyone had asked him to play, and once more, Harry thanked Matilda for showing him the way.

* * *

Dudley's gang was punished severely for harassing a student on the first day of school and received detentions for the whole month of September. This meant that all of their regular victims were free to enjoy their time in school virtually free of the harassment of previous years. In that time, Harry had managed to start some tentative friendships with many of the kids in his year. Tentative though many of them were (due to the fear of Dudley returning even angrier), some started developing into more solid ones. Dan and Harry, for example, started meeting at the library and playing chess. Daniel, it turned out, was a quiet chess prodigy, though he didn't like to boast about it. Though certainly not shunning outdoor sports like football and basketball, Daniel enjoyed the classic board games quite a lot as they fed very much into his very organized mind. Harry learned the game from him, and found himself enjoying it as well, although he tended to be impatient with his moves, resulting in Daniel defeating him soundly on a regular basis. Thankfully, Dan never gloated, which made Harry eager to play again and improve.

On the other side of the coin was Adam Wiggins, a dark-skinned, brown-haired boy who lived and breathed football. In a spontaneous pick-up game, Harry had a chance to play with him, and Harry ran so fast that he was able to bypass the other team's defense with speed alone. Since then, Adam started picking him for his teams at break, which led to the two becoming friendly.

Harry even got along better with some of the girls, after helping some of them in the library with a particular literature assignment they were struggling with. Having already read  _Animal Farm_  over the summer (such a strange story, he thought), the assignment's topic, he was able to help them make sense of it and helped them sharpen their essays.

Coming home after that first day, Harry had been worried that he would be blamed for Dudley's detentions, but thankfully Vernon and Petunia were thoroughly talked to by the head teacher, and none of the fallout fell on Harry.

All in all, it was certainly an auspicious beginning to his term. And the cherry on top of this wonderful start were his marks. Though he didn't raise his hand in class, due to usually sharing a class with Dudley or one of his cronies, Harry made it a habit to approach his teachers after class and ask for clarifications, or to offer some thoughts he had on the subject. The teachers, pleasantly surprised by the quiet boy's renewed enthusiasm, were more than happy to feed it. Though his school wasn't a prestigious one, Harry's teachers were experienced, and recognized that he wasn't comfortable being called on in class. And so, Harry started to see a marked improvement in his marks across the board. Though he didn't know it yet, he quickly rose to the top 10% of pupils, and many of his teachers were having conversations with one another on his rather remarkable turn-around. And the best part? His aunt and uncle remained clueless, as Harry would "switch" his report cards to show a C grade on every letter he was told to take home.

Yep, the year couldn't be going any better...

Harry should have known it was too good to last forever.


End file.
